“High post,” “political canvasser,” “manipulation of votes,” you will know the exact meaning of these esoteric terms, when, alas, you meet Mr. Hoolihan.
For you must know that not everyone you meet in Bohemia is not a Philistine. Indeed, many helots are there, who come from Philistia to spy out the Land.
We read in the Histoire Intime of Shakib that Khalid did become a Tammany citizen, that is to say, a Tammany dray-horse; that he was much esteemed by the Honourable Henchmen, and once in the Wigwam he was particularly noticed by his Shamrag Majesty Boss O’Graft; that he was Tammany’s Agent to the Editors of the Syrian newspapers of New York, whom he enrolled in the service of the Noble Cause for a consideration which no eloquence or shrewdness could reduce to a minimum; that he also took to the stump and dispensed to his fellow citizens, with rhetorical gestures at least, of the cut-and-dried logic which the Committee of Buncombe on such occasions furnishes its squad of talented spouters; and that—the most important this—he was subject in the end to the ignominy of waiting in the lobby with tuft-hunters and political stockjobbers, until it pleased the Committee of Buncombe and the Honourable Treasurer thereof to give him—a card of dismissal!
But what virtue is there in waiting, our cynical friend would ask. Why not go home and sleep?
Because, O cynical friend, the Wigwam now is Khalid’s home. For was he not, in creaking boots and a slouch hat, ceremoniously married to Democracy?